Star Trek - Log 10

by Alan Dean Foster

  Her insinuations struck home. One of the Klingon officers bridled at the hidden insult, but was restrained by a dour Kumara. A tall Briamosite standing behind Pliver made a small muffled sound that Kirk took to be local laughter. He forced himself to keep from smiling. Uhura's story had not only explained away their hour-long delay, it had apparently made them the first winners in the exchange of greetings. Of such tiny asides were powerful alliances forged.

  "This is Sarvus, Leader of all the Briamosite systems, final arbiter of multiple-world decisions." Pliver introduced them to the elegantly appointed, two-and-one-half-meter-tall Briamosite who had stifled his laughter at Uhura-kirk's comment. "And Vice-Leader Chellea," Pliver continued, indicating the tallest member of the naturally towering alien delegation.

  Leader Sarvus stepped forward, leaned like a willow to his right. His right arm curved downward to slap lightly against his slim right thigh.

  "Pleasure in making your acquaintance," said Uhura-kirk. Kirk watched as his own body imitated the formal Briamosite bow-and-greeting, arm hooking down, back of the hand rapping the thigh. Uhura had gained considerable command of Kirk's musculature by now and she performed the subtly difficult movement with admirable smoothness.

  Kirk started to relax just a little. Inspection showed that Kumara and his companions still suspected nothing. He found himself really believing that they just might be able to bring off the masquerade.

  Uhura-kirk turned to face him and Kirk forced Sulu's body into an attitude of attention. "My executive officer, Mr. Spock." Sulu-spock stepped forward, nodded slightly in typically perfunctory Vulcan fashion, and said nothing. That was just as well, and in accordance with their plans prior to beam-down.

  Uhura, occupying Kirk's body, would be forced to do a lot of talking. But there was no reason why the rest of them couldn't remain as quiet as possible. The less they said, the fewer the opportunities for making a fatal mistake.

  "My helmsman, Lieutenant Sulu," Uhura-kirk went on. Kirk stepped forward, felt his strange body bow respectfully. "And communications chief, Lieutenant Uhura." Spock manipulated Uhura's body, stepping forward to bow and in the process nearly falling over. Clearly he still hadn't quite mastered the intricacies of feminine musculature, particularly that of Lieutenant Uhura, which would require more adjustment to handle than the average female form.

  He caught himself, dropping to one knee and then rising hastily before falling flat on his face. Kirk forced himself not to move. Instead, he watched for the expected reaction among the Klingons—and got a pleasant surprise. None of them were looking in his direction. They were chattering softly among themselves and hadn't noticed Spock's slip.

  But why should they be paying attention? Kirk reminded himself. Uhura and Sulu were only subordinate officers, hardly worthy of notice. Kirk and Spock had already been introduced. Kumara was looking over a shoulder and conversing with one of his aides. Maybe their present situation would have more advantages than disadvantages, Kirk mused. He and Spock could observe the Klingons closely, without being subjected to similar attention. Kumara and his associates would be watching their original bodies, now inhabited by Sulu and Uhura.

  He tried to overhear their whispered conversation, and failed. It didn't seem important, though. One of the officers was smiling the particularly unhumorous Klingon smile. Certainly there was no sign they regarded Spock-uhura's slip as anything other than a simple stumble.

  Nor did the near fall appear to have bothered the Briamosites. Perhaps they weren't quite as sensitive as Kirk had been led to believe.

  "Leader Sarvus will now speak," announced Colonel-Greeter Pliver portentously. This was the signal for Klingon and Federation officers alike to forgo their own conversations and stand attentively.

  The Briamosite leader withdrew a small book from one breast pocket, opened it to the first page, and began to read. The speech was long, but the pages turned quickly. It was a carefully worded, thoughtfully prepared speech. It expressed feelings of friendship for both the Federation and Klingon peoples, declared a desire for extensive future relations of mutual benefit, and promised not so much as a grain of sand to either side in return for concessions and benefits the Briamosites were seeking for themselves.

  Clearly the local precepts of diplomacy were as fully evolved as Briamosite technology. They were in no hurry to join either the Federation or Klingon, and it would take considerable persuasion to change their minds. Nor could they be fooled. But Kirk knew that the pressures both sides were bringing to bear on Briamos to join one side or the other would eventually force them to do so.

  The Leader finished, closed the back of the tiny book. There was silence. The Briamosites appeared to be waiting for something. Uhura-kirk turned, glanced back helplessly at Kirk, which was a mistake, though it would probably have been worse for all of them to continue facing each other quietly, grinning like idiots.

  Kirk knew what should be said. "Yes, sir, a wonderful feeling which we would greet our hosts with in kind," he murmured expressionlessly. Uhura recovered quickly, turned and repeated what the captain had just said, in somewhat different words so that it wouldn't smack of an echo.

  But the damage had been done. As Uhura-kirk spoke, Kirk saw Kumara eyeing the "captain" uncertainly. Kirk began to sweat, though it did not show.

  "And so we thank you for your magnificent welcome, Sarvus of Briamos," Uhura-kirk was saying. Kirk felt the words sounded a little stilted, but he doubted the Briamosites would notice. "We extend to all of Briamos and its sister worlds the best wishes and hopes of the United Federation of Planets. I, too, hope that our future dealings may always be this pleasant, enjoyable, and relaxed, and that together we may continue as equals to extend civilization a bit farther into the galaxy."

  Kirk let out an internal sigh. Uhura had remembered all the speech, once he, as Sulu, had jogged her memory. He'd kept the formal reply purposefully short, eliminating many flowery phrases the psychodiplomats at Starfleet Command had thought would appeal to their hosts. The couple of sentences were enough—and Uhura had still almost forgotten them entirely.

  The Briamosite officials appeared satisfied, though, despite the brevity of Uhura-kirk's response. As she had recited the speech, Kirk had seen the initially suspicious Kumara relax and lose his puzzled expression. But . . . it had been a near thing.

  His worst suspicions were confirmed as soon as Uhura finished. Kumara was always more dangerous when relaxed. "It looks like you're not feeling too well, Jim," he murmured to Uhura-kirk. "A bit nervous, perhaps?"

  "As a matter of fact," Uhura-kirk replied quickly, "my big problem is that I might be too relaxed, Kumara. I don't have anything to be nervous about . . . unlike some people I know."

  The speed of her response was good, but the wording sounded a touch bitchy to Kirk, and was hardly the way he would have replied. But it seemed to serve where it counted most, among the Briamosites. They sensed strength instead of Kumara's implied uncertainty. Fortunately, Kumara didn't have a chance to follow up his initial accusation, or he might have succeeded in rattling Uhura.

  Colonel-Greeter Pliver stepped physically and verbally between Kumara and Uhura-kirk. "We have prepared a parade somewhat. We call them something else, but 'parade' will serve. This is our way of displaying for you, Captain Kirk and Kumara Captain, part of our culture in a way we hope is entertaining to you all." He waggled his ears, and Kirk recognized the Briamosite version of a chuckle.

  "If paraders seem they especially happy, is not because they are glad to see you necessarily. For purposes of parading, today was declared local metropolitan holiday so paraders could take off workings to participate. Are being compensated for not working."

  Uhura-kirk nodded slightly. That was the correct response. Kirk was permitted the luxury of smiling, although it was with Lieutenant Sulu's face.

  Every time the Briamosites hinted at their sense of humor, Kirk was elated. It was one area where the Klingons couldn't hope to compete, lacking much of any kin
d of humor other than the sadistic. However, he cautioned himself, the grin fading, it would be better not to count on the aliens reacting in any predictable fashion until the conference got underway and he had a chance to see how their hosts reacted to serious matters.

  A great fanfare of brassy but bizarre music rolled across the grassy sward in front of the reviewing stand they stood on. It sounded like violins and organs competing with damp bagpipes. At a signal from Pliver, the visitors followed the Briamosite leaders out from under the concealing canopy. Kirk took in their surroundings.

  The metal-and-wood reviewing stand was nothing extraordinary, a simple construction designed to be functional rather than impressive. Across the open green-blue field Kirk saw spires, lofty and attenuated like the Briamosites themselves, rising from the distant resort town where the conference hall was located. A curving slice of deep azure, like a blue plate viewed almost edge-on, showed where the ocean of the northern hemisphere backed onto the town.

  The fanfare became a rather dizzy march. Variously dressed ranks and clusters of well-organized Briamosites strode back and forth in front of the parade stand. Their long limbs swung supplely as they walked.

  The four Briamosite leaders beamed approvingly as each new group appeared. Uhura, using Kirk's body, dutifully tried to mimic their appreciation. It wasn't easy. Nothing was spectacular about the parade, though the Briamosites appeared to feel otherwise.

  After the parade had run for half an hour and there was still no end in sight to the flag-waving, uniformed ranks before them, the inflexible Klingons were beginning to twitch noticeably. Kirk knew that the sight of "inferior" beings passing in seemingly unending waves before them was enough to crack even Klingon self-control. One officer snapped at another who was crowding him too closely, and only a harsh, single word whispered by Kumara kept them from fighting on the stand.

  The parade continued for another two hours. By then Kirk could almost feel sympathy for Kumara, who looked about ready to scream. When the last rank of marchers had faded across the plain, the final banner receded into the distance, Leader Sarvus turned to both visiting captains. He wore a blank expression but his ears fidgeted happily, the Briamosite version of a politician who has just surveyed his constituents and seen a healthy majority of favorable votes.

  "Gentlesirs, what think you? You have just seen forty-five (untranslatable noun) representing all the continents of the several worlds of the United Systems of Briamos."

  "Very impressive," Kumara lied quickly, always first to flatter.

  "Very much so," said Spock-uhura, "I wish only we could see it over again."

  The comment produced pleased fluttering from the ears of the four Briamosite officials. It engendered the exact opposite reaction from Kumara and his cohorts. The prospect of sitting through a repeat of the just-endured parade was almost more than they could bear.

  Nevertheless, it gave Kumara an opportunity to display his remarkably un-Klingonlike diplomacy. "We also would enjoy a repeat," he said with a perfectly straight face, "but too much pleasure in a single day dulls one's mind for more serious endeavors. Hopefully another day."

  "No doubt you are right," an impressed Leader Sarvus admitted. "Until tomorrow, then, at the conference hall within the town, at the appointed time. You will transporter coordinates for the conference place be given."

  One of the Klingons stepped forward to huddle with Colonel-Greeter Pliver. After a moment's hesitation, too brief to cause comment, Kirk-sulu moved to join them to record the coordinates.

  "These will bring you down by the lakeshore, in the chamber itself within the building," Pliver told them after they had both noted the series of numbers that would tell their respective transporter computers where to set them down. "The structure itself is not an official one, but part of a large recreational complex, so your surroundings may a bit informal seem."

  "We are looking forward," Leader Sarvus was saying to Kumara and Uhura-kirk, "to hearing the arguments and persuasions of both your governments." For a moment the supreme leader of the Briamosite peoples looked troubled. "Actually we do not seek an alliance so soon, but external considerations seem to be forcing us inexorably in that direction. I need hardly tell you both," he cautioned more firmly, looking at each captain in turn, "to present the strongest arguments you can muster. The Council of Greater Briamos will base its decision on the evidence you present to us in these coming few days. Once concluded, we of Briamos will abide permanently by that decision."

  "All of us are looking forward to the first session," said Sulu-spock.

  "Until tomorrow-time, then," murmured Uhura-kirk softly.

  "Yes, until tomorrow." Kumara responded now to one of his officers, who called for him to move aside so they could be transported up to their ship. Unable to resist a last stab, Kumara half smiled at Uhura-kirk. "We are in a hurry to return to our ship so that we may supervise maintenance procedures, Jim. That is a function treated with notorious sloppiness in the Federation, a characteristic of most Federation activities—as anyone can tell by looking at the Enterprise."

  "Our damages would not have been incurred," Uhura-kirk responded loudly, for the benefit of attentive Briamosite officials as much as for Kumara's ears, "despite interference with navigational beacons, if we hadn't been so involved with the recent recovery of an interesting artifact. An artifact," she said, directing her words now to the Briamosite leader Sarvus, "which we will present for your edification and inspection during the conference, sir."

  Kumara looked dubious and curious all at once. "What sort of artifact?" But Uhura-kirk didn't get the opportunity to reply.

  The Leader was speaking. "We not really are interested in archeological matters right now, Captain Kirk. There are far more important matters to be dealt with."

  "I believe you'll be interested in this artifact," Uhura-kirk insisted. "It is, in a way, part of our presentation. A means of showing you the thoroughness with which we of the United Federation explore our own worlds and those around us. The artifact will not take up much space, and will be an interesting diversion to all attending the conference." She noticed the Klingons staring at Kirk's body. "You should find it interesting also, Captain Kumara."

  The Klingon commander looked interested in spite of his attempts to appear otherwise. What sort of trick did Kirk have up his braided sleeves this time? Why haul an old bottle or some such relic into as critically balanced a conference as this one?

  Kirk-sulu noted the effect of Uhura's words on the Klingon captain, but didn't smile. They had already gotten something out of the Slaver stasis box, and without even having to display it. Kumara was worried about the mysterious artifact. Good! The more it troubled him, the less ordered his dangerously fertile mind would be, and the fewer opportunities for creating mischief of his own he would have.

  "As you say, Jim," the Klingon finally finished lamely.

  Kirk-sulu watched with his companions while the four Klingons dissolved, taking with them a Kumara so rattled that he had forgotten that by leaving now, Kirk would have the last word with their hosts.

  True to her training, Uhura didn't waste the chance. "You must excuse our friends the Klingons," she said. "Anything new and alien to their own culture makes them uneasy."

  There, that was a suitably neutral statement, but one loaded with overtones they would begin to work on the Briamosites' minds after this day was done.

  They were ready to beam-up. Kirk almost pulled out his own communicator. Fortunately, Sulu-spock reacted fast and did the same a step ahead of him.

  "Mr. Scott?" Sulu-spock said into his pickup.

  "Yes . . . Mr. Spock." Scott's response was broken by an infinitesimal pause.

  "You may beam us aboard," Sulu-spock informed the distant chief matter-of-factly. "I have new coordinates to program in for our beam-down tomorrow."

  "Very good, Mr. Spock. Standing by."

  "Tomorrow—with expectations of benign developments," Colonel-Greeter-Pliver told them with tha
t odd little sideways bow of the Briamosites. His words and attitude were as warm as official neutrality permitted, but Kirk felt confident that the Greeter was on their side.

  However, he reminded himself, it was not Pliver's vote that counted, but those of the three distinguished aliens conversing in low tones behind him.

  XV

  Somewhere elseness became the norm for a moment or two. Then they were greeted by the familiar surroundings of Transporter Room 3. A smiling chief engineer rushed around toward them from behind the transporter console as soon as the four had fully coalesced.

  He went straight toward Kirk's body. "Captain?" His voice was hopeful, hesitant.

  "Sorry, Scotty," Kirk had to say. Scott looked over at Sulu's shape, where the words had been generated. "I'm still in Mr. Sulu's body. All four of us are still switched around."

  Scott fought hard not to look disappointed. "I tried a couple of little things, sir, with the console levels. As much as I could without risk of makin' things worse." He shrugged. "It was an unreasonable hope."

  They stepped down out of the alcove, walked over toward the turbolift doors. Scott stopped to gaze longingly at the transporter.

  "We're still workin' on the original damaged rectifier, Captain," he informed them. "I've also been workin' with the computer, on Mr. Sulu's suggestion that we use your original recorded patterns to beam you out and then back in—hopefully back in your proper bodies." He shook his head sadly. "I still don't think it'll work, Mr. Sulu." He directed his words to Spock's watching form, where the helmsman's mind was still housed. "But if the realigned rectifier should fail for some reason, then we'll have no choice but to try it anyway.

  "Still, I'm afraid that if I send you all out and bring you back, and you're still not correctly reintegrated, you might never be able to get your own bodies back. Overlapping pattern fixation on the false patterns you're now using would prohibit ever reversin' the situation."